


wake from your sleep, the drying of your tears (today we escape)

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Familial Abuse, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Protective Allison Hargreeves, Protective Siblings, Pseudo-Incest, Sisterhood, Spoilers for 1x09, The Bunker is it's own trigger warning, and everything leading up to it, author did not want to tag that, but it's in the show so...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-07 09:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Allison never did know how to take no for an answer. She's not about to start when her sister's freedom is on the line.





	1. pack and get dressed before your father hears us (before all hell breaks loose)

**Author's Note:**

> Because Allison is smarter than the show gives her credit for. 
> 
> Title from Exit Music (For a Film) by Radiohead on the Spotify TUA playlist.

Allison wakes again to the acrid smell of rubbing alcohol and the sound of distant shouting. Her throat throbs with pain and she swallows reflexively, only to realize what a terrible idea that is when the saliva surges, white hot, against her stitches. She tries to sit up but her limbs immediately protest and she just ends up slumped over again. Everything is fuzzy around Allison, and the light is too bright overhead. A pounding headache alternately makes her hearing too sharp or too muffled. 

 

The fighting downstairs doesn’t stop once in the time it takes Allison to haul herself out of the medical bay and down the stairs, nearly tripping headlong at the landing. (Since when did they have a basement?) 

 

It sounds like Diego and Luther, back at it yet again.

 

The yelling grows in volume. A third voice joins the fray- Klaus. She recognizes that high-pitched, wheedling tone he gets when he’s trying to convince someone to go along with a hair-brained scheme. Allison is still fuzzy, grasping at her thoughts which slide, smooth as silk, through her fingertips. Where are they? Where is Vanya?

 

_ Vanya. _

 

Allison latches onto that well enough. Distantly, she remembers training sessions about fighting through pain, how Sir Reginald had warned them that their thoughts would swim, that they’d be hard pressed to focus and get the job done. 

 

“You must keep a clear mind,” he’d commanded, as if he’d know anything about throwing himself into a dangerous situation for the good of someone else. “Keep goal-oriented at all times. Let all else fade away.”

 

_ Keep goal-oriented, _ Allison thinks.

 

_ Vanya, _ Allison thinks.  _ Vanya. Vanya. Vanya. _

 

The ride down in the elevator is freezing and too dark and too damp and she can feel her ears popping as she descends. Her stomach seems to have preceded her by a few floors as the shouting gets worse. 

 

_ Vanya.  _

 

The elevator clatters and groans as it lands with a jolt. Allison is scrambling out in seconds, thumping her shoulder hard against the wall and careening a few feet forward before she is able to right herself against the basement  _ (cave, dungeon, prison) _ wall. She leans on the unshakably cold support and follows the familiar sounds of a familial dispute.

 

_ Vanya. _

 

“- terrifying, really, to discover that you can do something that you never thought you could do!” Klaus sounds imploring in a way Allison has never quite heard before. 

 

All three of them have their backs to her as she struggles forward- but that tone, the dim lights, something in the way Diego’s back is tense, sets her nerves on edge. She finds she doesn’t need the wall half as much as she did a moment before.

 

“Look, if what Pogo told me is even half true, then she is  _ not _ just a danger to us.” Luther replies, tone firm and unyielding, the way it would only ever get when he was carrying out his father’s orders.

 

Oh, God, Allison knows exactly what she’s going to see when they turn around. But against all hope, she wishes she’ll be wrong.

 

_ Vanya. _

 

Her foot slips, her balance gone for but a moment, and that resulting thump is all that is needed to draw the attention Allison so long thought she deserved. She wishes it would all go away now, that she could fade just like Number Seven did when they were kids.

 

Luther’s eyes soften the moment they land on her, but she’s not interested in his face- not when Allison is looking into the terrified eyes of her little sister, stuck behind a foot of reinforced steel.

 

_ Vanya. _

 

Vanya is sobbing, banging her fists on the thin glass window (it’s probably bulletproof). She is dwarfed by the cage they have her in, looking small and meek and so very desperate. Allison recognizes the signs of a panic attack when she sees them. But Vanya stops, mouth open in the middle of a passionate plea, when she locks eyes with her sister. The devastation in her eyes breaks Allison’s heart.

 

“Allison, what are you doing down here?” Luther draws her attention away. “You should be in bed.”

 

She fumbles the pen in her hands and tries to put all the feeling she can’t express into the words LET HER GO.

 

“I can’t do that,” Luther says, and he looks affronted at the idea that Allison won’t agree to locking their sister up like an animal. “She hurt you.”

 

Allison never suspected that she would burn with hatred at Luther’s protective instincts. But the lump rises in her throat all the same and hot shame floods her gut. He was always so in tune with her, so attentive to his sweetheart- and when had he ever protected anyone else?

 

And hadn’t she basked in it? Hadn’t it made her glow, knowing that she held the strongest man in the world’s heart in her palms for so many years? And hadn’t she gloated that Vanya could never hope to be that loved, to be that adored? Hadn’t she sneered at the thought?

 

MY FAULT.

 

_ Please, _ she wants to cry.  _ Let me see Vanya.  Let me love her like I was supposed to. For God’s sake, Luther, if you ever loved me you’d let me hold my sister. _

 

_ Vanya,  _ she wants to argue, _ is the most vulnerable out of all of us, and look how we hurt her. _

 

_ Vanya _ , she wants to beg,  _ would never have done to you what you have done to her. _

 

_ Vanya,  _ Allison wants to scream,  _ loves us. And this is how we repay her? _

 

Vanya is renewing her efforts, trying to break herself out. Trying, Allison hopes with the knowledge that she herself is delusional, to get to Allison. 

 

“I’m sorry, but she’s staying put,” Luther shakes his head. He is so, so self-righteous, that it turns Allison’s stomach. 

 

She shakes her own head, feels fierce for the first time since she lost her voice, and pushes forward. Her other brothers- her  _ real  _ brothers- step aside almost instantly, parting like the Red Sea before her broken-down Moses. But Luther catches her against his chest. Allison’s skin crawls where he touches her.

 

“Just until we know what we’re dealing with.”

 

He ignores her feeble attempts to push past, and Klaus looks like he might cry. “She stays put.”

 

_ Like hell, _ Allison thinks. 

 

_ Vanya,  _ Allison thinks. Her sister is  _ screaming _ . Her brothers are turning their backs. And Allison?

 

Allison has always been smarter than her brothers give her credit for.

 

She locks eyes with little Number Seven, and blinks away her own tears. Vanya’s mouth forms words that she can’t hear, that she doesn’t want to hear, that she hasn't deserved to hear since she was four.  Her sister’s nails are starting to bruise with the force of her strikes against unyielding metal.

 

Allison shakes her head at her and waits until Vanya seems like she’s all there- as there as she can be, imprisoned in the place of her biggest trauma as she is. Allison's lungs constrict at the thought- how long has she been down here? How long did Sir Reginald keep her here?

 

_ Wait for me, _ Allison mouths slowly, hoping Luther thinks the shift of her head and shoulders is from tears. She has never been more thankful for how well her thick hair obscures her face. She presses more tightly against him, trying to press the words forward with her body if not her voice, trying to get as close as possible, for her sister to feel her heart beating only for the thought of rescuing her.  _ Wait for me. _

 

_ I’m sorry, _ Vanya is saying, but Allison shakes her head.

 

_ I love you. Wait for me. _

 

Vanya hesitates. Allison can feel Luther tugging her back; he’s saying something to her but it’s inaudible, all her focus drawn to the person she should have protected the most.

 

Vanya nods, just slightly. It feels like a weight lifting off of her ribs. Luther pulls Allison away, but in one last act of defiance she keeps her eyes on her little sister as long as possible. When even that link breaks it feels like her heart does too. Or maybe she leaves it down there, in the dark and the cold.


	2. breathe, keep breathing, don't lose your nerve (I can't do this alone)

Luther won’t stop trying to touch her. It’s driving Allison completely mad. He is all warm bulk and soft hands; but gentle words and kind eyes won’t cover up what he’s done. Vanya’s distressed face floats before his every time Allison looks his way. She doesn’t even have to close her eyes to see her sister’s despair. 

 

_ Wait for me, _ Allison had told Vanya, but Allison isn’t planning on making her wait long.

 

But Luther won’t leave her. Oh no, not his Allison, so sweet and fragile and she could claw out his eyes with her acrylic nails at this point. She loves him, of course she does, has since she was ten, but by God Allison is about ready to kill for her sister. 

 

_ Where was all this protectiveness all your life?  _ Asks an insidious but nonetheless knowledgeable voice in her head. It sounds infuriatingly like Five.  _ Where was this need to keep Vanya safe when she so obviously needed you? _

 

And Allison- well, she doesn’t have an answer to that. Not a good enough one to justify years of sibling neglect, at least. She tells the voice to shut up, but it just increases with the throbbing in her head.  _ Vanya needed you all these years, and where were you? Why, right here, with your Spaceboy. Aren’t you lucky.  _

 

Luther puts a hand on her shoulder. Allison turns from him, twitching away, wishing she could punch him without breaking her fingers. She has to get out of here, get to Vanya, get away-

 

_ Keep goal-oriented, _ Allison reminds herself, and lets the pain fade away. The voice of guilt in her head quiets to a relentless whisper. Luther seems miles off. 

 

But  _ Vanya _ \- Vanya crying, Vanya screaming, Vanya begging- Vanya stays.

 

Here are the facts: Vanya isn’t getting anywhere without Allison. Allison needs to get away from Luther to get to Vanya. Allison cannot use her power to get away from Luther. Allison is also very weak. Allison only has a vague idea of what she plans to do. Allison is, as Klaus would put it, winging it.

 

_ Vanya. _

 

Helplessness has never been her style. Allison feels the bile rising in her throat as she curls up in bed, facing away from the man she was so sure she loved until about a half hour ago. Her old desk chair creaks under his weight. She wonders where her other brothers are. For a moment she wishes intensely that they will take care of it for her, that they will be the big damn heroes and rescue the damsels in distress so she can just sit here for a moment. She just needs a moment to rest.

 

Then the guilt kicks her in the gut, Vanya’s eyes are tearful, and Allison does what she’s done best for years now.

 

She rolls over, lets a large part of her frustration and anger and hurt build and build behind her eyeballs, all concentrated heat and pressure. She lets it run hot furrows into the skin of her cheeks, and sniffles even as the post-nasal drip burns her throat. 

 

_ Vanya. _

 

She catches Luther’s gaze- so light, so protective- and lets out an entirely sincere sob. It doesn’t even break the silence.

 

“Allison, hey…”

 

He’s still smarting over her rejection from a few moments ago but he puts that aside to lean forward, forearm supporting him against the foot of her bed. She shuffles closer too. Their faces are inches from each other but Allison’s heart beats fast for an entirely different reason this time.

_ Vanya. _

 

His voice is low and rough and soothing. “It’s not forever, alright? We just need to be careful. It’ll be okay, I swear.”

 

Allison nods because yes, it will be okay. She’ll make it be okay.

 

The pillowcase is sticky with salt now. She can feel her face crumpling. The bedding is too scratchy against her sensitive skin and she shifts a little to lean up on her elbows. Allison reaches out one tentative hand and rests it, light as a feather, on Luther’s cheek. She blinks away tears and feels as if she’s seeing him clearly for the first time.

 

“Vanya won’t be able to hurt you now,” he soothes just before Allison slams his head sideways into her childhood desk.

 

She’s a damn good actress if she does say so herself.

 

The desk splinters upon impact, going down in two almost neat halves with a great crack. Her old jewelry and trinkets scatter with a tinkling sound. Books and papers go flying. Dust plumes up, the faded lamplight catching it swirling in almost beautiful shapes. Luther’s body makes a resounding thud as he lands, first half-up on his knees before they give and he slumps into the mess, dead to the world. For a heart-stopping moment she can’t see him breathing, but then his great chest rises and she sighs.

 

Allison scrambles to her feet, swaying unsteadily. But there’s no need to be ready for a fight; she’s gotten lucky. If she hadn’t caught him off guard there was no way Allison could have taken Luther down like that. But here he is, docile as a doll, unconscious in the wreckage of her childhood. It seems fitting, somehow.

 

_ Vanya _ , Allison remembers, chokes on it and runs.

 

The hallway blurs by and she’s running like an animal, hunched over her aching ribs and almost down on all fours. She can’t catch her breath, the colors of her home swirl from lightheadedness, but Vanya is stuck in what is essentially her own private torture chamber and Allison can’t stop now.

 

Klaus is there to catch her against his side when she falls on the landing. He steadies her, throws her arm over his shoulder and says simply, “Let’s go.”

 

He probably heard Luther hitting the floor. 

 

_ Vanya, _ Allison sends out desperately. She wonders if her sister can actually hear her thoughts as they stumble to the elevator. Klaus is usually stronger than he looks, but he’s weak from withdrawal and Allison is at least as tall as he is.  _ Vanya, wait for me. I love you, please wait for me. _

 

“Go get her out,” Klaus whispers, shoving Allison forward, looking over his shoulder wildly. She doesn’t comprehend why he isn’t coming with her for a moment before he jerks his thumb up the staircase again. “Somebody’s gotta keep a look out for the big space ape. I’ll stop him from getting to the elevator if he wakes up.”

 

Allison wonders how, exactly, her twig of a brother expects to do that, but then again she took Luther down with some well-timed sniffles and the judicial application of physics, so.

 

“Don’t worry, sis,” Klaus’s grin is more than a little deranged as he hits the button for the lift and steps away. He lifts a hand to wave as she begins to descend and the last thing Allison sees before the dark of the elevator shaft sets in is his pearly whites. “I’ve got more than a few tricks up my sleeves. Now go get our sister.”

 

Still, she wants to argue, to say that Vanya needs them all down there, to ask where Diego is, where Five is, why hadn’t they thought to help Vanya sooner?

 

But Klaus is right about one thing- time is something she’s short on these days.

 

_ Vanya, _ Allison screams internally. She wants to vomit when the elevator hits the ground, jolting her forward. It feels like her mind is on fire, her bones ablaze, but  _ keep goal-oriented, _ says Sir Reginald in her head and so Allison steps into the basement again.

 

The air down here is close and damp and Allison feels disgustingly clammy. Her shirt sticks to her chilled skin as she rushes down the passage. Her legs wobble beneath her but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, not anything else because there is her sister, pale and scared and trapped.

 

Vanya waited for her.

 

She is pawing lightly at the glass; her head is leaning against it, probably jarred by every strike against the window- there is a dark bruise forming where she rests it against the glass. 

 

Her sister seems so tiny in that big black box, her face ghostly white in comparison. As soon as she clocks Allison she begins to beat at the door with renewed vigor. Her fingertips come away from the glass and leave it bloody before returning with force. Vanya’s mouth is open, she’s crying, and Allison can’t hear her at all.

 

_ Vanya,  _ Allison mouths, and starts crying too. How could this have happened?

 

_ I love you, _ Allison mouths, puts her whole heart into it, and throws herself at the door.

 

God damn her, but she tries to get it open with everything she has. She  _ does _ . But it’s no use; it took Luther to put her little sister in here, and it looks like it’ll take Luther to get Vanya out. But still Allison strains at the wheel, palms slippery with sweat. She wishes she could scream. She wishes her brothers were here with her. She wishes Vanya would stop crying, that she herself would stop crying. 

 

_ No, no,no, no, it can’t end like this. Please, please, whoever is out there, don’t let it end like this. _

 

_ Vanya. I love you. _

 

Allison’s hands skid through her own sweat and she loses her grip, slamming her shoulder against the wall of the bunker. A hand lands against the glass next to her face, and Allison tears her gaze away from the unyielding door to glance at Vanya wildly. 

 

Her sister’s eyes are glowing white.

 

Allison lurches back instinctively, hand going to her throat out of reflex. As soon as it does her sister wilts before her eyes, trying to turn her bony frame in on itself just like she did when they were kids. Back then, it filled Allison with a sense of secondhand embarrassment, of shame at having such a meek little creature as a sister. Now, even with the fear of the unknown stirring in her heart, Allison can’t help but feel something hot and protective wake in her chest, surging up her throat, growling. 

 

She takes her hand from her own throat and places it against the glass, overlapping where Vanya’s is on the other side. She matches up their fingertips perfectly and marvels at how small the violinist’s are. She meets her sister’s gaze and doesn’t blink.

 

_ Vanya. There you are, Vanya. I see you. _

 

_ I love you, _ Allison mouths; she can’t seem to stop now that she’s started, not when the first time she’d said it to anyone other than Claire in years had ended with her throat slit and her sister imprisoned. She doesn’t know if she’d ever said it to Vanya before this point, but her fuzzy memories of childhood- of how little she’d actually thought about Vanya- answer that question for her. 

 

Vanya nods slowly.  _ Back up. _

 

Allison frowns, lungs still heaving from exertion.  _ What?  _ She can’t stop now- they’re so close!

 

But then she notices what she’d missed before. The trembling she’d felt wasn’t her limbs shaking from effort, nor was it the pain in her throat and head that was making her vision wobble. There are tremors going through the whole room like an earthquake. Like a switch has been flipped, Allison’s hearing comes back online, having faded in her determination to get to Vanya. 

 

_ Vanya. _

 

The metal of the bunker is shrieking. Taking several large steps back, almost falling on her ass, Allison can see fissures starting to form along the front wall, growing, splitting. And everything is shaking, she can hear furniture crashing to the ground somewhere upstairs- is that Vanya’s doing or Luther’s?-  the metal screaming is getting so  _ loud _ -

 

Then the bunker comes down. The wall splits off from the rest of the room and shudders, standing upright for a moment, before gravity tugs it to the ground. Dust rains from the ceiling. Allison can feel herself gaping.

 

_ Vanya. _

 

And just like that, Allison has her sister back. 

 

She stands here, small and unassuming, but her eyes are white and she’s glowing faintly. Slowly, the glow fades a little, the white recedes, and Allison can see that deep, warm brown in her irises again. It’s more of a comfort than she wants it to be.

 

For all that display of power, Vanya seems hesitant now. Oh, she scrambles out of the bunker fast enough, but the second she’s out, she stops moving towards her sister. Like she’s- like she’s  _ afraid _ . Of  _ Allison _ .

 

Oh,  _ hell  _ no.

 

Allison rushes forward, grabs her sister’s shoulders lightly, and looks her straight in the eye, ducking her head to do so. _ Are you okay? _

 

She’s obviously not okay. Allison thinks she may be hyperventilating. She shrinks back for a second, but Allison can finally touch her sister- she’s not giving this up for anything. She checks her little sister over, that frantic need to hold her not abating in the slightest. Logically, Allison knows they should be moving, getting out, but- _ Vanya _ .

 

“I love you!” Vanya blurts, looks scared and sad and ashamed. She cuts her eyes away and lowers her head. Her hands, which had risen defensively when Allison rushed her, have yet to fall. Her breathing stutters, stops, and then she lets out a great cry and covers her face. “I love you, I’m _ sorry,  _ I swear I didn’t mean to- I, I, I’m so scared I don’t know what’s happening I love you Allison please please don’t make me go back in there-”

 

Allison jerks forward and wraps her arms around Vanya desperately. At the same time, her legs give out and they slide to the floor. Vanya ends up half in Allison’s lap, face buried in her hair and sobbing into her shoulder. Finally,  _ finally _ , she holds Allison back, fingers like claws. 

 

Having her sister half on top of her suits Allison just fine even with the added weight against her protesting bruises, because she has no intention of letting her go. That protective thing that lives in Allison’s chest now purrs. She drops kisses into that tangled brown mop, her own fingers no doubt digging bruises into Vanya’s skin. For the first time since she held Harold Jenkins’s criminal record in her hands it seems she can breathe.

 

“Not to break up a touching moment,” wheedles a voice over their heads, “but we’ve got a problem.”

 

Allison whips her head around to take in a disheveled ( _ more _ disheveled) Klaus leaning against the wall next to the entrance. He’s got a black eye and a split lip. His eyeliner has run and he’s holding an arm around his ribs. That hot protective beast flares up Allison’s esophagus. 

 

His fists are glowing blue.  _ Huh. _

 

“Luther’s awake,” he supplies. Allison rolls her eyes.  _ Obviously.  _ Klaus grins a little ruefully. “Diego and Ben are taking his mind off things, but we gotta go.”

 

_ Ben?  _ Allison mouths, turning her attention back to Vanya. Her sister has pulled away a little (not too much, not that Allison would let her), and she shrugs, perplexed.

 

Klaus gets a hand under each of their arms, tugs at them incessantly until Allison hauls herself to her feet, teeters on her heels, and falls against his shoulder. It must jolt his ribs because Klaus grunts, but he catches her with one arm around her waist and the blue around his fists doesn’t fade. 

 

Allison keeps one hand on Vanya all the time; she grips her shoulder, pulls lightly at a curl of hair, tangles their fingers together. Vanya doesn’t protest, lets herself be led out to the elevator, up the stairs. 

 

In the living room, grunts and yells emanate from a truly epic sounding brawl. But there’s a new voice added to the mix Allison is used to.  _ Is that...? _

 

The entrance hall is trashed. The chandelier is easy enough to navigate around, but half of the banister is hanging, splintered, from the grand staircase as if something large and solid blasted through it, so they have to duck under it to get to the front door. Furniture is upturned and broken, glass litters the mosaic tiles.

 

Vanya winces, shrinks back from the evidence of a fight ostensibly caused by her, but Allison tugs her close and presses lips to her temple firmly.

 

“Diego, Ben!” Klaus shouts just as they haul their beaten bodies over the threshold. “I don’t fucking know how to drive.”

 

Something long and inhuman and  _ ghostly blue _ tosses the struggling form of their estranged brother from one side of the hall to the other before whipping out of sight. It’s like something out of Scooby-Doo.

 

And suddenly Ben is standing behind Klaus’s left shoulder.  _ Ben. _

 

“Oh God,” Vanya says faintly. “I’ve lost my mind.” Allison squeezes her hand.

 

“Nope.” Ben replies easily. “Luther’s down. Diego's on his way. Rest up, man,” He adds to Klaus, setting an apparently corporeal hand on his brother’s shoulder. Klaus nods wearily, shifting Allison’s arm higher on his shoulders, and then the blue around his fists fades and Ben disappears with a little wave.

 

“We've got a lot to talk about,” Klaus admits at the gobsmacked expressions of his sisters. “Let’s just get the hell outta here first.”

 

Allison nods, readjusting her grip on her siblings.

 

They’ve only just hobbled out to the car- Klaus was right, it really did look like the Batmobile- when Diego appears at the door. He jogs lightly out to them, keys swinging from a loose fist, but Allison can see from a distance that he's no less messed up than Klaus. Dear God. She knows that Luther was probably holding back but-

 

_ How could he do this to his own family? _

 

For a moment it’s all a mad scramble to get everyone in the car without further exacerbating anyone’s pre-existing injuries. For all her shock Vanya, being the least physically harmed out of all four of them, is the one to prove most useful here. 

 

She’s just gotten Klaus buckled in in the backseat when he brings a hand up, cups the back of her head very gently and presses a kiss to her forehead. Allison would have thought he’d have made it smacking, sloppy, overdramatic- but it’s soft and sweet and private. She looks away, giving them some privacy when she sees Vanya snap her eyes up to his face. 

 

Vanya pulls away eventually, and whatever Klaus told her, the feral, terrified light in her pupils seems to have ebbed just the slightest bit. 

 

Klaus and Allison insist (they don’t whine!) that Vanya sit between them in the backseat. She looks like she may put up a fight, but Diego taps his watch and sternly reminds them that Luther won’t stay unconscious forever. She acquiesces, albeit reluctantly.

 

“I really don’t think we’ll all fit back here,” she mutters, but she’s tender when she helps Allison slide in and buckle up. 

 

“Sure we will, pipsqueak,” Klaus retorts, genial, and throws a skinny arm over her shoulders. His bare hand slaps on Allison’s bicep. Maybe if she had her voice Allison would snap at him, but for now she just ignores it and slips her own arm around Vanya’s waist instead. Vanya looks sort of like a cross teddy bear, squashed between them. 

 

Allison will take that over the panic she saw in the bunker any day.

 

Diego has just wrenched the driver's side door open when there’s a telltale crack and Five is sitting cross legged on the hood of the car.

 

“Did you guys have a party without me?” He asks, tone sardonic. “You trashed the place.”

 

“It’s a long story,” Klaus says, just as Diego pipes up, “We don’t have time for this,” and Vanya, in a small, shaking voice states, “It’s my fault.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Everyone else responds in sync. Allison’s pretty sure Five does it purely by reflex. 

 

Diego heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he points at Five, points to the passenger side door and says, “Vanya has powers. Pogo knew. Luther’s turned into Dad. Ben’s a ghost. Klaus has  _ more _ powers. Get in the car.”

 

Five doesn’t move.

 

“We’re leaving,” Diego snaps. There’s blood dripping down his forehead. “Get in the car.”

 

“Everything’s a goddamn ordeal in this family,” Five says to no one in particular, and gets in the car. 

 

Diego peels out onto the road as Five turns around to look at Vanya seriously. “Powers, huh? Any good?”

 

“Terrifying,” Vanya replies. She sounds so broken that Allison tightens her grip, shakes her head. The corners of her sister’s lips turn up, but the smile’s not in her eyes. “Guess I am special, after all.”

 

She says “special” like it’s something disgusting. Allison knows Klaus feels their sister’s body shaking against his side too, because he leans his head against hers and closes his eyes.

 

“Well.” Five reaches out to card his fingers through Vanya’s hair. He snatches his hand back after only a moment. “It won’t be terrifying forever. Not while you’ve got us.”

 

The ride is quiet, almost serene. Allison presses firmly against Vanya’s side and brings up her free hand to urge her sister’s head down to rest on her own shoulder. Soon Vanya has one hand tangled with hers, the other with Klaus’s. The affectionate, urgent creature in Allison’s breast curls up, content.

 

Allison doesn’t know where they’re going, what to do, or how they’re going to do it. There are so many variables- Vanya’s powers, Harold Jenkins, the apocalypse, what they should do about Luther, Mom, and Pogo.

 

All Allison does know is that she has her little sister back and heaven help anyone who tries to take Vanya from her again. Allison doesn’t need her rumors to protect her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried not to bash Luther but...I kinda failed. In my defense, the whole premise of these fix-its is that he's a fool and no one should listen to him.


End file.
